The blacksmith

 The blacksmith 

This story is told in a small village in the Great Nation of Venterbre (or GNV for short). This village was called Shermnatin. It was known for its great buildings and amazing market’s. One of the richest families was the Mournin-glade’s. The family consisted of the father, Eilauver. The mother, Essaerae and their new son, Ulrik. Why were they the richest? They were the builders of this marvelous town. Ulrik’s father and grand-father were builders as well, some of his family members said that even his great uncle had been a mighty warrior.

The family had high hopes for Ulrik. He was the strongest growing up. By the time he was 13 he was almost able to lift a whole cart by himself though, he did not want to be a builder. From his trips to other villages he would stop and look in awe at the blacksmiths with their big hammers and all the beautiful swords made by them. Though, whenever he would stop he would quickly get tugged away by his mother. He knew what he wanted to be and didn't want to let anyone stop him, Ulrik wanted to be a blacksmith the best in the world.

As Ulrik grew his personality changed apart from his determination to be a blacksmith. He had grown to love cats, even rescuing a kitten as well. There was one question left unanswered though. Why did he not want to be a builder? Well, after his parents kept on questioning him he finally crumbled. He did not want to be a blacksmith because he felt there was not enough and he had always had an eye for carefully crafted swords and other weapons though, his parents were supportive of him and his choices.

Soon enough he was able to open his own smithy in a slightly far place where he wouldn't be able to wake people with his banging. It had fans installed on the ceiling, large containers full to the brim with metal, Many different hammers large enough to squash a head and also some smaller ones for more fine details, molds for swords and other things and a large furnace to heat the metal in. All types of people would come to Ulrik, Assassins, Warriors and sometimes just random people who want a sword just for the decoration. Soon enough from years of practice he became the best blacksmith in all the land. One day, Ulrik was about to close the shop with the snow thundering down, the machines were almost done cooling, all the tools were put away and he was about to snuff out the candle but then... A cold but long hand was put on his shoulder. He turned around at the figure that matched his height though, it was covered in a long black cloak with the hood drawn. As the figure leaned forward Ulrik could see its face, a large smile was plastered across its face with its teeth bared and their eyes.. Ulrik will never forget those eyes. They were terrifying and opened widely with a hint of desperate-ness as the person stared blankly at Ulrik. Ulrik mustered up the courage to speak.

“Hello, sorry to disappoint but you will have to come back tomorrow-” He said quietly before getting cut off by the figure with its eyebrows slightly turned up and its face getting strangely close 

“Look here, I really need you to make me a weapon and you are gonna make it or there… Will be consequencesss…” The person's speech was cool and collected but it sounded like its tongue could be that of a snake and had a venomous hiss to it. Ulrik just stared at it remembering all the details of its face, the pale white skin, the constraint smile, the piercing black dark blue eyes and the small lock of auburn hair that fell upon its forehead, he knew who it was now… It was T̶h̸e̵ ̴S̶m̵i̸l̶e̵r̶. 

Ulrik had been warned of him but had always thought it was some stupid myth spread around but they were all true. He was overwhelmed with fear that he just slowly backed into the smithy and the figure followed him. The figure spoke, “I have a drawing here that I want you to complete. Please try and follow it to the best of your abilities.”

Ulrik, shakly responded, “Yes, I will do that s-sir.” before unfolding the piece of slightly crumpled paper and looking at the design. It looked at first as if it was a normal two handed longsword but, on one side it had a toothed edge. The grip was a toxic red colour with a dark toxic green wrap on it. The pommel had a small green thing in it before he saw the label, it was an emerald, Ulrik had no idea where he would get one but then he heard a scratching at his door before he noticed the draft and turned around. It was The Smiler again this time he was holding something in his hand and a bag was strapped over his shoulder.

The Smiler fiddled with something, Ulrik caught a glimpse of it, turns out that it was the emerald in the drawing nd suddenly he spoke, ‘’I think you might need this.” he tossed the gem with Ulrik catching it ‘’And to make sure you do it I will pay you now.’’ taking off the bag and giving it to Ulrik. The smiler walked out, closing the door behind him. 

Ulrik quickly got to work. He was exhausted from repetitively raining the hammer and he worked until dawn and finally.. He had finished the sword. The room smelt of burning cedar and the room was boiling. Ulrik packaged up the sword and waited outside and soon enough he saw The Smiler walking and he met Ulrik half way. “Such amazing craftsmanship..” The Smiler spoke before putting the sword away and leaving. Urik never forgot that day.